Right Where You Belong
by lacemonster
Summary: [A "stuck in wall" fic, a prompt requested by my followers.] After separating himself from his father's team, Damian returns to a safehouse one last time on a mission, and finds himself in a precarious trap. And despite saying their farewells, it seems like Dick isn't ready to let Damian go quite yet. [DickDami, smut]
1. Right Where You Belong

**Warnings** : explicit sexual content; age difference; dubious-consent; humiliation

 **Pairings** : Dick/Damian

 **Credits** : This is a non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. This fanfiction was written and created by me.

 **A/N** : THANK YOU MY SWEET FOLLOWERS FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT AND PATIENCE

I am so sorry this took so long to make.

I finished the original draft of this story quite a few months ago. But after doing a test-read and asking some friends to look over it, I decided it just wasn't quite ready yet.

In the original draft, there were a lot of tone issues, and I felt that Dick and Damian's relationship was very unclear/undefined.

Unfortunately, last semester was a very stressful time for me, and editing the fic required a lot more concentration than I could afford to give it. I learned that it's one thing to write a story from scratch, another thing to reread it and make technical edits... but content changes? Stories that require you to completely go over them, decide what works and what doesn't? Far more challenging than I expected. It wasn't necessarily difficult but it did require a lot of care and focus that I simply didn't have.

So that being said, I'm so sorry that it took so long to make this. For those of you who are curious, I decided to include the original draft (it's posted as the second chapter) You'll see that for the most part, the porn is exactly the same. I'm mostly just posting the original draft so people can see the changes-but the original draft actually might be preferable to the final draft if you like your story with more humor/snark!

In the final draft, I decided to make it clear that Dick and Damian are in an established relationship. I feel like it goes without being said that this story is purely fictional/fantasy, but I still feel like I should warn everyone to not use this story as a model for a healthy relationship. This story is largely dubcon.

In other words, it's kind of fucked up that Damian's boyfriend fucks him when he's trapped in a wall? So please keep in mind that this isn't real and don't read this story if that type of fucked-up behavior is going to bother you.

* * *

Damian had expected more of a fight.

It was the middle of patrol hours and the empty alleyway was dark. Damian had caught onto Nightwing's trail fast, leading him into the alley behind some office buildings, and it was almost disappointing how easily Damian had cornered him.

The true challenge was that he couldn't get Dick to look at him. Dick kept his head turned away, staring above Damian's shoulder, towards the street. Towards the exit. Damian's hands were placed on the brick wall behind Dick, fingers curling into fists. There was something unnerving in Dick's calm. Something frustrating.

"You could come with me," he tried anyways.

"Pass."

"There's no point in staying here," Damian said, unable to strain the hiss from his voice.

"That's not the issue and you know it," Dick said, his gaze dropping to his hands. He idly readjusted his black and blue gloves.

Not one to be ignored, Damian's hand darted towards Dick's wrist, forcefully stopping him. Dick didn't fight back. Not physically. But his eyes finally flickered up in Damian's direction, and there was something unusually cold waiting beneath the white lenses. Damian didn't let it show in his expression—but the look made his stomach flip.

He didn't want this.

Arguing with Father… that was just inevitable. They were too different, or maybe too similar, Damian wasn't quite sure. But the fact was that they argued quick and it took longer to forgive. That was how it had always been and that was how it'd always be.

But Dick. Dick was different. Damian didn't like arguing with him. And Damian _hated_ that he didn't like arguing with him, because it made him do stupid things like _give in_.

Damian's eyes lowered. He could feel his grip on Dick's wrist loosening. Damian felt a familiar cloud over his head, that yearlong dread coming back to remind him—like it had time and time again—that the worst mistake he ever told Dick was that he loved him, because all it did was give Dick leverage against him. Just like Mother warned it would.

But he wasn't going to cave. He _couldn't_.

Damian let go, taking a step back, boot scraping against the rough concrete.

"Damian," Dick said. The resentment in his voice had slipped away, melting into something softer. Something inviting. The kind of voice that felt like home and promised it too. Damian's brow slowly furrowed, trying to fight off the feeling inside his chest. The one that said _it's not too late to forget it, it's not too late to just go home_. "I can help you fix things. He _wants_ you home. We can work on this together."

"I don't care what he wants," Damian said, head snapping up toward Dick. His own words fuelled his drive. He could see the game Dick was playing at—the same one he tried to play again and again. The way he always tried to fix things, always tried to balance the tension between father and son. Dick's face, for a moment, turned cautious. As if trying to plan his next words carefully. It only infuriated Damian that much more.

Dick moved towards him, hands reaching for his face. Damian pushed, forcing him back a step.

The next few seconds were fast. Dick's hand twisting his wrist, Damian's back hitting the bricks, a hand pressed against his chest.

Damian could think of ten different ways to break both of Dick's arms but he simply stared back in stunned silence.

"You know what I think _you_ want?" Dick said, voice low. " _I_ think you don't actually want to leave."

Damian looked away, glaring, but Dick's other hand grabbed his face, forcefully turning his gaze.

" _I_ think this whole thing is just a cry for attention."

Damian immediately bristled in defense, indignance swelling in his chest. His teeth clenched and he met Dick's gaze with fire.

" _I_ think you've spent too much time as my father's bitch," he spat back.

"And I think you're a brat who needs to grow up and learn some patience," Dick said, releasing him all at once. Damian shrugged back into place. He felt a dull ache in his wrist and arm, something he hadn't noticed until now. Dick had pinned him harder than he expected. Dick shrugged carelessly. "If you didn't want me involved, you wouldn't have come looking for me. I'm sorry, Damian, but if I'm going to run around the world with you, it's not going to be on some manhunt."

It wasn't too late to go back.

"I have to do this. Grandfather has too much power and Father would rather just twiddle his thumbs."

"I can't control you, Damian. I never could. But I'm not coming with you."

Damian couldn't fight back the feeling of betrayal when Dick turned his back on him.

"You'll see how wrong you are," Damian called after him. Dick kept walking. "If you don't want me as part of your team, fine. I'll be the worst enemy you've ever made."

His words were lost in the void. He watched as Dick scaled a building, his form disappearing over the edge.

Damian was determined to take down his grandfather's operation, even if it meant fighting with his bare hands. However, tools and weapons would help. Damian infiltrated one of Batman's safehouses. Goliath was going to be Damian's transportation—so Damian quickly passed the hangar, ignoring all the vehicles.

The hangar served as the entrance. Beyond that, the doors were unlocked. Damian watched as a door slid open for him, greeting him like he was still family. Damian stepped into the main hallway, where the fluorescent lights beamed down on him.

The safehouse was crafted from a pre-existing structure. The air was a bit stale, the walls concrete, the lighting harsh against an otherwise dark building. It was a far cry from the cleaner, shinier safehouses that had been built from scratch. Additionally, the layout of the room had to work within the confines of the space they were given. Damian had to travel down a long, narrow hallway in order to reach the equipment room.

Damian wasted no time. Upon turning the corner, he tossed his case on the nearest workbench and started snatching what he needed off the wall hooks.

As he started to load up on supplies, he noticed something sitting on a shelf. He slowed to a still, looking at it.

Damian glanced once at his hands, disposing the grappling line into his bag. Then approached the shelf.

There was no sense in picking up the pair of escrima sticks off the wall. Damian should have been moving fast and couldn't afford any distractions. But that's what Dick did, even when he wasn't there. He always drew Damian's gaze. Always grabbed his attention.

Damian regretted their last encounter. He didn't regret leaving, no. He knew what he had to do and no amount of love he had for Dick would ever change his path. But he did regret that they argued. He regretted that he had let his anger ruin his chance to say a proper goodbye.

Damian studied the weapons in his hands. They were new, he realized. Not a single scratch grazed the surface.

It occurred to him that he was possibly never going to see them in action.

He heard a distant sound and paused, listening.

A whooshing sound, followed by a clank.

 _Damn_. It was the door.

Damian quickly set the escrima sticks back and zipped his case. He gathered it into his arms and ducked behind the workbench.

Damian kneeled close to the ground, listening. He heard even steady footsteps travelling down the hall. Damian held his breath, trying to hear which door was going to be opened next.

His heart began to hammer when he heard the footsteps growing nearer. He wrapped his hand tight around the case, ready to make a run for it—when suddenly, silence.

A pause. Then footsteps, moving further away. As if the person had changed their mind.

Damian listened closely. Heard a door further down the hall slide open.

He could wait. But given that the person almost came into the room, a confrontation seemed inevitable.

Damian's best bet—or only option, really—would be to sneak out the door. Any member of the team would likely be trained enough to hear him, so he would have to act fast. He'd have to make a run for it down the hallway.

The safehouse had defense mechanisms. Given that his father had already reprogrammed the security measures, there was no way Damian's voice was going to override anything. The door to the hangar would undoubtedly lock. However, there was a grate at the end of the hall. If he worked fast enough, he could break it open, crawl through, and get outside. It was risky—the grates had defense mechanisms too. He could get hit with a knockout gas.

There was only one other option. He could sneak behind the person. He could hurt them. He was strong enough.

 _No_.

Damian quickly shook off the thought. He was going to take down Ra's al Ghul properly—as a hero. It didn't matter who was on his shitlist, Damian wasn't going to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. At least, not more than he already had.

Damian looked around the room. In a display case, he found a low level blaster. Blasters were only used to stagger heavier enemies like Man-Bat or Solomon Grundy. Damian would never use it against a regular person, no, but he could use it to blow a grate. He grabbed it.

He slung his bag on his shoulder, keeping it loose, and held the blaster in his other hand. He inched across the ground, closer to the door, but not close enough to reach the sensors. He listened carefully.

The room across the hall. It was a computer room. If Damian listened close enough, he could pick up the sounds of keys typing. Damian closed his eyes and took a breath. Then he darted for the door.

Damian pushed through the opening door and took off.

Reacting just as fast, the alarm system went off. Damian caught the links at the end of the hall, the grate perched adjacent to the locked exit. The hall lights were blinking red and blinking fast. Damian picked up the speed of his steps, as fast as he could go.

Damian didn't look back to see if anyone was chasing. He kept moving.

Then he noticed something. Something moving from below and up top. Two panels, coming to meet halfway.

 _What?_

The hallway was closing up.

His father had implemented a new trap without Damian realizing it.

Damian tossed his bag, where it narrowly made it through the opening, smacking the top panel but ultimately falling on the other side.

The panels were getting closer. He could make it—it'd be close, but he could—

Damian dove, his jaw clenching as his knees struck the bottom panel, the sound echoing through the hallway. The top panel came down hard on his spine, knocking the wind out of him, the blaster falling out of his hand and sliding across the floor.

Damian waited, expecting the panels to crush him in half, but they stopped, pinching him in place instead. The whirring of the trap went silent, stopping upon contact, and didn't seem like it would let up.

The trap had caught him in the worst possible position, right at the smallest point of his waist. If it had stopped higher on his body, somewhere _wider_ like his chest or ribs, he might have been able to push himself the rest of the way through. As it was, the door was too tight to slip his hips past, and too narrow to get his knees high enough to properly to climb through.

Damian tried to push up, to see if he could get the top panel to rise up with him—but no matter how hard he seemed to push, it didn't budge.

Frustrated and angry, he slammed his fist against the steel, cursing heatedly under his breath.

The alarm stopped, the hall snapping into sudden silence. The lights flickered back to normal.

Damian froze, listening, as even footsteps moved down the hall.

There was a soft noise. A voice.

Damian turned his head, listening.

He recognized that chortle a little too well.

"I feel like this is just deserts."

Damian bit back his retort, listening to Grayson's footsteps as they drew nearer. Face hot with humiliation at being caught in this ridiculous position, Damian swallowed what remained of his pride and managed to come up with his best plea:

"You can clearly see that I'm not your enemy. So release me."

"Actually, you're not on the team anymore. And if I remember correctly, the last thing you told me was that you were going to become 'my worst enemy'. So if you ask me—you're right where you're supposed to be."

Damian clenched his jaw, his own words being used against him. He listened as the footsteps came to a slow.

"The way I see it, you're not only intruding, you're stealing. I shouldn't treat you any differently than I treat a criminal. Hand over the stuff you took."

"Does it look like I'm in a position to hand you anything?" Damian said, teeth bared. He slammed his fist again, the sound echoing off the halls. "Release me. You gain nothing by keeping me here."

"You know, I'm supposed to be meeting Batman here."

Damian closed his mouth. He mulled over this information, wondering why Dick was telling him this. Why he was _warning_ him.

"What do you want?" Damian finally asked.

"Well, I want you to stay—"

"Not going to happen," Damian said, cutting him off, his teeth gritted.

"I know, I know," Dick said. Voice lowering, he said, "I've already said it the last time we met—I can't stop you. But with you caught like this, that puts you in a pretty precarious position. All that stuff you stole is going to be gone. New defensive measures will be placed. And who knows what Batman will do if he catches you here?"

"Stop dancing around and name your price!"

"I never got a chance to say goodbye."

At that, Damian paused.

He felt something—Dick's hands, he quickly realized, brush against his lower back.

Damian's face burned. The suggestion in Dick's words hadn't gone unnoticed.

Damian didn't have high expectations the night he cornered Dick in the alley. What happened was exactly what he thought might happen. But ideally, this is how things would have gone:

They would argue. Dick would finally see Damian's point. They'd kiss, make up, go to Dick's apartment. Then the next day, they'd run away together. They'd fight this battle side-by-side, as they always had and always would.

All of that wasn't going to happen, no. Maybe not even half of that. But Damian had a chance to make a few things right before he left. He had a chance to say _goodbye_. And maybe this wasn't exactly the way things Damian dreamt they would be, but at least he could leave without so many regrets.

"Fine," Damian said, his voice short.

Damian jerked in place when two strong hands suddenly grabbed his ass.

"What are you doing? You have to let me out first!" Damian spat, heart racing. He tried to turn back to see Dick but couldn't twist far enough to see through the small crevice between his side and the wall—so he blindly kicked instead, making contact with the air. Dick must have anticipated Damian's reaction because he dodged it.

"You already agreed."

At that, Damian blushed. He wouldn't have said that if he had known Dick meant _right here, right now_.

"If I let you go, you'd just go running."

Damian's face burned hotter. He opened his mouth to argue—and then stopped himself. This was supposed to be an arrangement. He couldn't admit to Dick that he actually wanted this.

He could feel Dick's hands roaming over his body. Damian chewed on his bottom lip uneasily, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to stir at the familiar touch.

In a low whisper, Damian could just barely catch Dick's words:

"If you're good, I can get you out of here before Father shows up."

Damian suddenly felt cold. Dick wouldn't—would he?

Before Damian could think of what to do next, Dick's arms moved around his waist. Damian was stunned as he listened to the light clang of his utility belt ringing in the air. Damian could start to feel his heart rate pick up. _Shit_. Damian's eyes lowered, his breath stilling. Dick was _actually serious_ about this.

Damian's face warmed. His eyes darted back toward the door. No one was standing there yet but if his father _did_ show up…

"Just hurry."

Damian's breath hitched when Dick's hand brushed between his legs, massaging his groin over his clothing.

"He won't be able to see me back here."

"That's not the point," Damian said, face burning. He stopped talking when Dick yanked at his pants, pushing it over his hips. Dick's hand pressed against Damian's cock, more purposeful this time, warm palm massaging Damian through the remaining fabric, getting him hard. Heat rushed through Damian's body at the contact. Damian's eyes fluttered shut—despite all of his protests, Dick's hand felt nice. The whole situation was unfair and obscene but the temptation was there.

Yet, when his clothes fell to his ankles, Damian regained his senses. This was too risky. His stomach was fluttering with nerves. He glanced at the blaster and his bag—both of which were too far away. He couldn't help but feel ashamed—how had it come down to this? Stealing was one thing, getting caught was another, but to get caught in such a silly circumstance—

The whole situation was absolutely ridiculous. Damian might have even laughed—but all he could think about was the severity of his mission, his heart racing with the fear that his father might show his face. He tried to calm down. Tried to reason with himself that while Dick could be mischievous, he usually kept his promises. That this would be over, eventually.

Damian could feel the shape and heat of Dick's erection pressing through the man's clothing, lined along Damian's backside. Damian clenched his jaw. He felt weak and exposed.

"I think I like you like this," Dick said, hand squeezing around Damian's now fully hard erection. Damian clenched his jaw, holding back his voice. "You behave better this way, at least."

At that, Damian snorted in contempt.

"I bet you get off on me being trapped like this. Must make you feel real big and strong—for once."

Dick's hand squeezed a little too hard, making Damian flinch, a shock sparking through his body. He clenched his jaw, thinking up a million different ways to curse Dick, but he didn't dare to say a word.

As much as he hated it, he was at Dick's mercy.

Hands moved over the contours of Damian's body, pushing up his shirt. Dick leaned down to kiss the exposed skin, soft lips moving down his spine. The sensation was sensual, relaxing. Damian felt the cold air touch where Dick had kissed, feeling goosebumps rising on his arms in response.

Damian's eyelids lowered, his anger being slowly lulled by the gentle care of Dick's soft lips. His heart started to beat faster, almost nervous, as Dick moved further down.

A little too far down.

A rising suspicion rose in Damian's chest when the kisses neared his tailbone. Heat rose to Damian's face.

"Wait—"he started.

Damian was cut off short when Dick dipped his head lower, warm mouth pressed against Damian's entrance. Damian flinched as the flat of Dick's tongue, warm and wet and rough, stroked over his hole. Damian's eyes went wide, his voice breathless, and was too shocked to be properly indignant. Damian never let Dick's mouth go _there_ —no matter how much Dick asked—simply because he found it to be crude and disgusting.

Dick's hot tongue moved against him. Damian's lips parted, a moan threatening to escape as Dick applied pressure. His movements growing bolder.

He heard the sound of metal hitting the floor. _The bracers_. A pause in movement, then a zipper. _The suit_. Dick, likely touching himself. Getting himself hard too. And the idea of it embarrassed Damian greatly, especially when Dick resumed his movements, his hot breath on Damian's entrance, tongue pressed against him. Without being able to help it, Damian thought about how the situation must have looked—himself, trapped and exposed, with an older man rimming him. And touching himself, while doing it.

Damian felt a warmth rise to his face. It was lowly, sure. But seeing as how he was stuck, he didn't have much of a choice.

But it wasn't in his nature to just lie there and take it. He was nervous. Crazy nervous. It wasn't just the location—it was the complete and utter lack of _control_.

Dick's tongue moved in upwards strokes against his hole, each movement making him more sensitive than the last. Damian bit down on his lip to restrain his moan. He didn't want to give Dick the satisfaction in knowing that his motions were getting to him but it was difficult to control himself. However obscene, Dick's mouth was warm and inviting, and he worked at a pace that made Damian want to relax and give in to the pleasure that he was receiving.

His breath hitched ever so slightly as he felt Dick's tongue begin to prod at him. Wanting to enter inside. His face burned at the crudeness of it all—he wanted to squirm away but there was nowhere to go, his body trapped underneath the panel. Dick's tongue pushed inside, beginning to stretch him open, and heat rushed to Damian's face.

He was increasingly aware of how hard he was. His cock was aching between his legs. He wanted to touch himself but his hands were trapped on the other side of the wall. His body felt hot and confined in his vest and he couldn't do anything to relieve himself.

And Dick continued teasing him with his tongue and mouth, hands kneading the flesh of his ass but not moving anywhere else. Not stroking his cock like Damian _needed_ him to.

A small moan crawled up Damian's throat, making Dick halt.

"Say something?" Dick said, and Damian could perfectly envision his dumb smirk.

Damian's face burned. _Bastard_.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Damian said coolly. "It can't possibly be taking this long for you to get ready—you're not _that_ old."

When Dick didn't respond right away, Damian felt a little more bold. A little more in control.

"At this rate, I might just fall asleep."

Damian would fake some snores at this point if that was what it took to get Dick to hurry up. But without being able to see Dick's face, Damian couldn't gauge a reaction. Dick simply said nothing, his warm breath brushing against Damian's wet entrance, and Damian resisted reacting to it. Resisted pushing back his hips for more.

Damian felt fingertips brush lightly over his cock—but nothing more than that, just enough to tease. Damian's hand clenched into his fists, his brow furrowing. He wanted Dick's hands again. More, firmly this time. He wanted to be touched properly. Dick went back to rimming him, his tongue pushing in deeper. Damian gripped the edge of the bottom panel, trying to find purchase on something. Anything. Dick's hands moved across his ass—Damian stifled a gasp as fingers prodded at his hole. Dick's fingertips pushed in, spreading Damian open, and Damian's face burned at the idea of Dick being able to see _everything_.

Dick's fingers stretched Damian to better receive his tongue. This time, Damian couldn't hold back his voice as Dick filled him. The warm, wet intrusion felt so good. Damian's body fell slack, a shudder running down his spine.

 _Fuck_ , it felt good.

He just needed Dick to go a little faster. A little harder.

He needed _more_.

Then Dick's hand was finally back on his cock—and the anticipation seemed to make it that much sweeter. Damn it all, Dick could be _unbearably_ indulgent in foreplay. Sometimes so agonizingly slow that Damian would forget about the pay off. Whenever Dick took his sweet time in the past, Damian at least had his hands free where he could pull Dick's head and hands and everything else to do whatever he needed them to do. If he wasn't trapped, Damian's hands would likely be buried in Dick's hair by now.

Richard was stroking him in tune with the slide of his tongue—enough to keep the pleasure constant, but not enough to drive Damian towards the edge. Quickly, Dick's hand became just as frustrating as Dick's mouth—Damian needed more. He needed him to stroke faster, harder. Needed him to plunge his tongue deep, deep enough for Damian to feel the shape of him. Feel the stretch.

His breath grew shorter with each pump on his erection, heat prickling on his skin. He wanted to arch back but he was trapped, so trapped. He licked his lips, memories of Dick's kisses coming to mind. Damian wanted his lips and teeth. Wanted to feel Dick suck on his ear and neck. Wanted Dick's rough and callused hands to reach up his vest and tease his chest, pulling and pinching at his nipples.

Damian felt Dick's breath against his skin. Damian anticipated more of his tongue—groaned when Dick's fingers unexpectedly pressed inside instead. Two fingers, scissoring inside of him. The pace of his fingers much faster, relieving Damian's antsiness. The fingers were thicker, could push deeper, were more controlled in the angle of their thrusts. The fingers pressed where it felt best, that spot that made him lose his restraint and moan openly.

The hand on his cock moved quicker now, closer to the tip. Damian could feel the heat swelling in his cock. He was going to come. Dick was stroking him and finger fucking him and he was going to come. Dick's teeth grazed against his flesh, his heated breaths matching to the tune of Damian's own—Damian had nowhere to look but at the ground and all the colors of the concrete and metal mixed together until his eyes finally shuddered to a close—a moan vibrated against his lips until—until—

Dick released him all at once.

A forlorn gasp escaped his lips, at first not grasping the sudden absence of Dick's hands. His aching cock hung between his legs, pulsing. Precum leaking down the tip. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

His entire body shuddered, pleasure dancing along his spine as his body balanced on the edge of climax—without tipping over.

His brow furrowed, teeth gritting. _Fucking Grayson_. He should have known Richard would pull something like this. He should have fucking known.

But laced with his anger was desperation. He needed to come. He so badly wanted to stroke himself to completion, even if it meant jerking himself off at Dick's feet. Wanted it so bad he could _beg_ for it if his pride still didn't have a hold on him.

But he was trapped in this stupid fucking wall and the only person who could get him out was also the one tormenting him.

Damian could hear a light rustling sound behind him. Fabric, perhaps. His breath hitched. Was this imbecile getting _dressed_?

"You are not leaving me here," Damian said at once, and he hated how childish he sounded—making desperate demands when he was in no position of control.

Dick didn't say anything. A sharp sound cutting through the air answered for him. Damian jerked forward, the smack against his hind much harder than it would have been if Damian had seen it coming. The hand left a sting on his cheek and Damian's heart raced, a dull anger rising in his chest amidst the shock. He felt almost betrayed.

Dick was never like this. He never took what he wanted. He never punished him. Damian supposed Dick was angry, maybe even understandably so, but surely Damian didn't deserve all of _this_.

But the idea that maybe he _did_ earn such treatment brought up a strange feeling of shame. Of guilt. Feelings that he desperately tried to stuff down.

It didn't matter if Dick teased or played hard, he decided, chest tightening with pride. Damian wasn't going to give in. He'd keep together what little fucking dignity he had.

Damian anticipated the second strike but it tore out his breath all the same. Damian could handle pain—but the strikes felt strange. His body had been driven to the point of highest pleasure—making him almost more sensitive to Dick's hand. The burn on Damian's skin distracted him from the pleasure in his groin.

Another hit, landing in nearly the exact same spot, and Damian's eyes squeezed shut. Another and the sting finally dragged a groan out of him.

He moved his legs anxiously, trying to relieve the itch on his skin. His heart raced, not sure what he wanted. Almost _wanting_ another strike just so he could focus on something else— _anything_ but the sensation of being spanked that lingered on his skin.

There was a pause and with his eyes shut, Damian could hear his own breathing. It was heavy now. His heart fluttering with nerves as he waited for the next one. Unpredictably, the strike landed on the other cheek. Fresh and new. Flesh prickling at the sting. Another, and Damian could feel the blood rushing to the spot. Hot. He could only imagine what his ass looked like right now—probably flushed all red. The idea of it brought a strange semblance of shame to Damian, who regarded every single scar on his body as a mark of every failure in battle.

A series of strikes, quick and light, made it hard to think. Grunts escaped him and he hated how animalistic he sounded. How demeaning it all felt. A hard smack finally pulled a sound, loud and clear from him, and that seemed to satisfy Dick somewhat.

Damian, tense throughout the entire ordeal, finally relaxed. He panted, trying to catch his breath. Legs quivering. He nearly _whined_ when Dick touched the sensitive skin, the touch deceivingly gentle. Hands almost soothing as they touched his skin. Strangely, it was Dick's softer touch that felt more intense than the pain.

His erection had lessened somewhat. He was hard but he was far from the brink of glorious ecstasy that he once was. Dick had given him that high pleasure and then had taken it away.

He knew it was not over. Dick was playing nice now—but his hands weren't off Damian yet. He wasn't done playing. Every second felt agonizing—waiting for Dick to move onto the next thing. It was almost terrifying how unpredictable he was—Damian could never guess with Dick, even though the older man could read him like a book. The way Dick moved fluidly between sweet and generous to angry only amplified his darker moods, each rare time they actually appeared.

And it was even more terrifying to know that, whichever side of Dick decided to take over, Damian would be completely subject to his whims.

Minutes seemed to pass before Dick surprised him once again. Instead of going back to spanking or petting him, he moved around Damian. Damian's eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to sense where Dick was. Listening to the ever so subtle taps on the concrete floor. Feeling the other's body heat as he drew in close.

Damian was startled by the creak on the floor right before his feet, a breath suddenly fanning across his semi-hard erection. And Damian knew what was coming but after everything that happened, after the way Dick was acting, Damian still didn't believe it when Dick's tongue pressed against the tip of his cock.

Damian gasped. His legs moved and Dick grabbed him, holding him even further in place. Damian couldn't see Dick but he could imagine it—imagine Dick positioning himself between Damian and the wall, his lips on Damian's cock. The thought of it alone made Damian groan.

He wanted Dick to swallow him completely but he didn't. Damian squirmed as Dick's tongue teased over his cock—light, gentle strokes of his tongue. Lips kissing and gently nibbling along the sides of the shaft.

Too gentle, not enough. Damian wanted to fuck his mouth. He wriggled in place to no avail. Everytime he tried to guide the tip of his cock to where he thought Dick might be, it entered nothing.

Eventually, Dick suckled on the head. Lips wrapped around tight, his head stilled in place. Letting his tongue wrap the member in his mouth. Damian practically whimpered, the pathetic sound reaching his ears and only furthering his shame. He needed more. He was close to _begging_ for it.

Dick kept his mouth around him for nearly an eternity. Then he slowly began to bob his head along the full length of Damian's cock. Damian let out a cry as Dick swallowed the entirety of his erection, the tip of his cock trapped in the wet, tight heat of Dick's throat.

He was cursing under his breath, frantically, hands moving around the steel panels as he tried to find a place to hold onto, as Dick bobbed his head. Again and again, all the way down. All the way. Dick's mouth was so hot and wet. The sounds of his sucking just barely reached Damian's ears.

He tried to thrust his hips but each time he did, Dick would pull back to the tip. Damian's thighs were _trembling_ now, trying to hold still. Trying to control himself.

Damian gasped Dick's name when fingers stroked over his hole. He wanted it. He wanted Dick to thrust inside of him. To fill him up while he pleasured him with his mouth.

Dick granted him that. What felt like two fingers pushed inside. It was in so deep, stretching him so good. Dick's fingers were a little rough, the friction a little too intense, but Damian liked it when there was a little bit of pain.

Damian suddenly heard something that snapped him out of his haze. There was a sound, in the distance. Echoing footsteps.

 _From the hangar_ , he realized. His head snapped up, watching the doorway in horror.

Someone was on the other side.

Damian's eyes widened when the door finally slid open. Batman. His father.

"Grayson," Damian whispered, to warn him. To get him to stop. But his father looked up, their eyes connecting, and Damian knew it was too late.

Bruce paused in the doorway, staring. Then started to march forward.

Dick's head sunk deeply on Damian's cock. Fingers pushing in down to the knuckle. Damian tried to back away but there was nowhere to go, and Dick's mouth and fingers chased after him.

The worst part was that it all felt so good. Crazy good. Damian was already sensitive from being pushed to near-orgasm and Dick's mouth moved so skillfully, his fingers brushing up against Damian's most pleasurable areas, that he felt like he was getting close again. Close to coming.

And his heart was hammering as his father started to walk toward him but even his fear couldn't block out the pleasure.

"Grayson," he whispered harshly once more. His voice was desperate.

He wanted to kick Richard away but his legs felt weak. Dick's fingers only seemed to dig that much deeper inside, just the right amount of pressure to make it sting without being unbearable—just the way Damian liked it.

Bruce was halfway down the hall now. Realizing there was no way to convince Dick to stop, Damian propped up the best he could, his hands on the narrow ledge to balance himself. He couldn't meet his father at eye level—and perhaps that was for the best. Damian tried to fight back his blush when Bruce's shadow finally loomed over him.

The man stopped, picking up the blaster and the case. Damian felt uneasy when he saw Batman crouched, wondering if he could see through the narrow crevice between his body and the panels.

"This trap was supposed to be for enemies," Bruce said, rising to his feet. Damian's eyes followed him. Bruce spoken evenly, his words straight to the point. It made Damian relieved. If his father had seen anything suspicious, he certainly would have said something.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek when his cock buried particularly deep in Dick's mouth.

"Then I guess we're enemies," Damian managed, trying to sound as serious as possible, but he could barely speak. Barely breathe.

Bruce's face was stern as ever. He didn't even seem to have the patience to make a passive-aggressive remark about Damian's position.

"You feel no remorse for stealing."

"No, just..." Damian said, trailing off when suddenly, he felt another one of Dick's fingers stroking over his entrance. Wait, he wasn't going to—Damian stopped, refocusing on the conversation with his father. "Just remorse for getting caught."

His heart started to beat faster, breath shortening, as a third finger began to prod at his entrance. Not now. Not now. Not now.

Damian's eyes squeezed shut when three fingers pushed themselves in. He clenched his jaw tight to prevent any noise. Fuck. Dick's digits were absolutely stretching, filling Damian so good, and Dick's mouth was so hot and wet— _fuck_ , Damian wanted to come so bad, but when he reopened his eyes his father was still standing there.

"Who activated the defense systems?" Bruce said.

Voice breathy and filled with desire, Damian scrambled for any excuse to not speak. He diverted the conversation, "Are you going to get me out of here or not?"

Dick was sucking on his cock, his expert mouth and tongue massaging Damian at a steady pace. His fingers began to thrust in Damian, the pace less forgiving, moving in deep and hard. Damian barely listened to Bruce, simply staring at his father with a blank, dazed expression as the man droned on about how the security system worked, trying to restrain all emotion from his face as Dick fingered him harder. Faster.

The stretch of his hole around Dick's fingers felt amazingly good. It was getting harder to control himself. His legs were spreading for _more_ , the flush on his face undeniable, his nipples erect underneath his uniform. He wanted to come. He'd been _waiting_ to come.

As if sensing Damian's need, Dick began to curl his fingers, making Damian actually gasp.

Bruce paused in the middle of his rambling.

Damian scrambled for an excuse.

"It's difficult to talk like this," Damian said. It wasn't a lie.

"Damian, what were you thinking?" Bruce said.

Damian gritted his teeth. He wouldn't be able to stand still through another lecture. He just couldn't.

Damian's fists began to tighten. He squirmed underneath Dick's ministrations, hips jerking between Dick's mouth and his fingers. It felt good. It felt too fucking good. Dick suddenly swallowed Damian deep, his throat tightening around the tip of Damian's cock, his entire length enveloped in wet heat. Damian's mouth parted with a silent gasp. Dick held Damian there, arm pinned around him. He was finger-fucking him deeper now. Faster. The stretch of his hole around three fingers was maddening, he felt so full.

He was going to come. He was going to come.

Damian's face burned as he watched his father, waiting for him to get his rant over with. Trying to hold off on his orgasm until he was gone. But the man just would not shut up and Grayson wouldn't fucking relent and Damian's head was spinning.

His eyes burned with tears of frustration. Every part of his body clenched up. He couldn't come. He couldn't. If he came in front of his father, he'd be absolutely mortified.

But Dick's throat felt so good. Lips vibrating against his cock as he hummed. Damian felt so trapped and the complete loss of control was getting to his head. Dick was going to keep fingering him and there was nothing Damian could do about it. The fingers were brushing against his prostate, over and over. Damian was trembling, absolutely trembling, the heat of his climax steadily building in his groin.

He struggled against Dick, trying to get him to stop, to wait, but both the wall and Dick's free arm kept him pinned in place. His fingers seemed to thrust that much faster, now pounding his prostate.

Heat rushed through Damian's body. His mouth parted, the pink of his tongue visible as he panted in front of his father. His vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.

He was going to come. But he didn't want to. Not with his father right there, looking directly at him, not even a few feet away.

Damian struggled to say something, to get his father to leave, but a strange sound just escaped his throat, and now Bruce was looking at him in confusion.

Shit. Fuck. He was looking right at him.

But damn it all, he wanted to come.

He'd been _waiting_ for it.

His sense of priorities went askew. He knew it'd be better to keep resisting, to hold back until his father was gone, that his father would _have_ to leave eventually, but his body kept screaming at him, telling him that it'd be better, more satisfying, to _just let go_.

Unable to resist, he did.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his long moan. His eyes squeezing shut, entire body shuddering as he spilled his seed inside of Dick's mouth. Richard wasn't stopping, he wasn't stopping—hot mouth still wrapped around Damian's cock, fingers still buried deep in his ass and— _fuck_ , he was swallowing it. His lips massaging Damian's sensitive cock as he suckled it all down and it was crude and disgusting and—

Damian finally removed his hand and breathed, pleasure still racing around his lower half, face flushed and eyes burning. He tried to catch his breath, deep humiliation gnawing at him. Shame for not being able to hold himself back. Embarrassed that he had just climaxed in front of his father.

Damian dared to look up, swallowing his shame. Bruce just looked concerned by Damian's sudden outburst.

"Damian, are you in pain?"

Bruce's hand moved to check on Damian, presumably a gesture of comfort—and that's when Damian regained his senses, suddenly alert.

 _Fuck no_ , there was no way he was going to let his father touch him _now_.

"It's crushing me. You need to get me out of here," Damian said quickly.

Bruce went quiet for a moment, thinking.

"What are you waiting for?" Damian pushed, trying to make the situation seem more urgent than it was.

Miraculously, it worked. Bruce backed away a step.

"I'll try to get ahold of the team to see if any of them activated the defense system. In the meantime, there's a control panel in the hangar. I'll go see if I can override the command," Bruce said. He looked at Damian, frowning. "But you're staying right there. We need to have a talk later."

Bruce turned around, heading out the door.

Damian finally breathed when Dick removed his mouth and hands.

"Grayson, you fucking bastard—"Damian said, his breath still short, once the door was shut. He could hear Dick moving around, getting back up, so who knew if he was even listening. Damian clenched his fists. He couldn't fight back the blush on his face, the humiliation. He kept replaying the scene in his head over and over again, wondering how much of a fool he seemed in his father's eyes. "I'll fucking—once I'm free—"

Damian's sputtering was cut off when he felt something pushing up against his hole. Momentary disbelief filled his head—there was no way Richard was—he _just came_ —

Damian let out a short cry as Dick's cock pressed in, burying the head. Every nerve in Damian's body was electrifying, his body still sensitive from his orgasm. The cock inside of him even thicker, even _hotter_ , than the fingers that made him climax.

"Stop," he gasped, body trembling. Legs weak and spread on either side of Richard, his toes curling and uncurling. Dick didn't stop. He shoved himself deeper and deeper, cock slowly sliding in.

Damian groaned as he felt Dick's hips meet his, his cock pushed impossibly deep. Even after Dick's fingers, Damian still felt so _full_.

"I can't believe you," Damian said, his nerves on fire, those frustrated tears now spilling. "I can't fucking believe you."

"What's wrong, Damian?" Dick said. And Damian ceased all at once, listening to Dick speak for the first time in awhile. He felt Dick's hands digging into his hips. Voice husky, words dark, Dick said, "You don't like being my bitch?"

Damian blinked with shock, his own words finally coming back to bite him. Dick pulled back all the way before thrusting back in, his cock seeming to hit every nerve in Damian's body. Damian cried out all at once, nails scratching against steel.

Dick held nothing back, gripping Damian hard, hard enough to bruise, as he pounded into him. The full length of his cock drove forward, his pace brisk. Damian couldn't hold back his voice, could barely think.

"You certainly liked me sucking you off and fingering your ass," Dick said, voice mocking. "How'd it feel, coming like a proper slut in front of your own father?"

Dick talked a lot, but he never talked like _this_. His words seemed to drill into Damian's brain—as if _because_ Dick was the one to say those words, there _had_ to be some truth to it. Damian's face burned in embarrassment. He couldn't even think up a retort, his head spinning.

"If you like being watched so much, I could tie you up in the busiest part of Gotham," Dick suggested darkly, his hard thrusts almost punishing. "Then everyone could see you for who you truly are."

"Shut up," Damian breathed. He bristled with every word, decided he couldn't listen any longer. Dick's words were driving him crazy. He dug his fingers in the panel. "Shut _up_."

But his words sounded pathetic, his voice so drowned in desire that it was pitiful. He wasn't a threat. He was pinned and Dick had taken control, subjecting him to all of his perversions. Controlling his orgasms and making him a desperate fool in front of his own father.

"You're awful mean to a lot of people, Robin. I'm sure Gotham would love to see you get knocked down a peg." Damian couldn't resist moaning at Dick's use of his moniker. Dick picked up on it, used it against him. A sharp hand landed on Damian's ass. "Is that what you want, Damian? To show everyone that you're nothing but a needy, cock-loving whore?"

Dick's hand reached around, grabbing Damian's erection. Damian hated how pitiful his voice sounded as he moaned. How desperate and weak and pathetic.

"You're hard just thinking about it, aren't you?" Dick said. Damian wanted to protest but the words escaped him. All he could focus on was Dick stroking him and riding his ass. All he wanted was to yell but the same betraying thought kept repeating in Damian's mind with every thrust: _Yes. Yes. Yes._ "You're so proud and mighty until you're stuffed full, aren't you?"

It was degrading, but Damian believed it. His legs were spread, cock aching hard for release. He came once and wanted to come again. He felt like some type of wanton creature, pride shattered and subject to Dick's ministrations. Dick's hand glided over his leaking cock and Damian just took it, his body bent over and eager for every thrust against his prostate. Wanting to be filled up. Every movement of hot friction building him up, driving away his pride.

How could he argue when every sound out of him was a moan, begging for more?

Between Damian's unrestrained sounds of pleasure, he could catch hints of Dick's voice as well. Groans that sent shivers up Damian's spine. He could sense the erratic rhythm of Dick's pace, the bodies snapping together as Dick chased after his own pleasure. Damian knew him well enough to know he was going to come—and even though he had been _waiting_ for Dick to to get it over with and finish, now he was suddenly worried.

His father left, yes, but what was stopping him from coming back?

His cock pulsed in Dick's hand—and then Dick took his hand back, grabbing Damian's hips to better angle his thrusts. Damian's breath hitched—there was no way Dick could leave him like this. Still riding off his sensitivity from earlier, Dick's fucking had made him hard. He would need to come again. He would need Dick to keep fucking him, to push him over the edge. He needed his cock inside him, needed that pleasure.

"Slow down," he managed to breathe. _Not yet_ , he wanted to say.

But Dick wasn't listening. He didn't care, far too close to the edge to listen to reason.

Or maybe, Damian began to suspect, _he wanted to_. Maybe he just wanted to finish and leave Damian unfulfilled. To punish him.

The thought panicked Damian. It scared him more than the idea of getting caught.

His heartbeat raced, Dick sliding in and out of him faster now. Almost urgently. Damian tried to convince himself that there was no way Richard was going to just leave him hanging. Dick always focused on Damian's needs, often before his own. But the way he grabbed onto Damian's hips, pulling him onto his shaft like a sleeve to fuck, felt uncharacteristically _selfish_. Dick let out a heated, familiar sound.

Face burning, Damian knew he had to concede. He resorted to at least saying, "Don't come inside." If Dick was going to leave him here, if he was going to punish him, Damian wouldn't be able to stand that last bit of shame. "Don't, please, _fuck_ —"

With almost a vengeance, Dick buried himself as deep as he could go, hips pushing up against Damian's body. Damian gasped as Dick finished inside him, his thick, hot seed filling him, coating the sensitive, fucked raw walls. The sensation made Damian's eyes roll up, tremors going through his body as Dick unloaded in him. But while Dick sighed contentedly, Damian was left soiled and his cock aching.

The humiliation ran so deep that any biting words Damian might have had were silenced. He clenched his jaw shut when Dick pulled out, his essence beginning to drip from Damian's hole to his crease. Damian flinched when the tips of Dick's fingers pressed against his sac, catching the drop.

Damian tensed when Dick's fingers wiped alongside his crease, letting out a long, deep moan when those digits plunged inside of him. The fingers easily slipped into Damian's open hole, the sound of the fingers alongside Dick's ejaculate making a filthy sound. Damian's shame burned even brighter on his cheeks. The sound was perverse and disgusting. This couldn't have been his body making these sounds. It couldn't have been.

"Do you want to come?" Dick asked.

His fingers worked inside Damian, moving at a leisurely pace in comparison to the brutal fucking Damian just received. Damian whimpered pathetically as Dick expertly found his prostate, the pads of his fingers stroking over the spot repeatedly. Damian's chest heaved as Dick continually massaged over the spot, sexual frustration damn near bringing him to sobs. He struggled, body rocking against the edge of the panel, not sure whether he wanted Dick to keep pressing against the spot or if he wanted to get away—but his body was completely trapped in the wall and he had no choice but to take Dick's fingers.

When Dick's other hand wrapped around Damian's cock, Damian finally begged, " _Yes_. Please. Fuck, _please_."

The sounds of Dick's fingering filled Damian's ears. Dick's hands worked over him, each stroke building Damian higher. Heat pooling into his groin until finally, it all released. He cried out, his hips jerking as he came.

His orgasm was even more intense the first. Damian's whole body clenched up, tremors running through him as he spilled into Dick's hand. Dick stroked him through it, letting his hand fill up. Damian wouldn't be surprised if the entire manor heard his voice—the sound long and almost pained. He finally managed to bite his lip near the end, at the last moments of his orgasm. His body fell slack, his weight resting on the panel as he tried to catch his breath.

Dick at least had the kindness to make themselves decent again, cleaning up and redressing them. Dick even reattached Damian's belt.

Behind him, he could hear Dick moving around. Damian stopped, holding his breath so he could listen. Dick was a little further down the hall, his words distant and muffled but still audible.

"Yeah, sorry, I just got your message now. I was checking the inventory to see what was taken."

Despite everything, Damian rolled his eyes.

 _Grayson, you're foul_.

A few yards away from the safehouse, Damian stood near the bay, the moon reflecting off of the waters. Hearing quiet footsteps, Damian turned and was surprised to see Dick standing there. Dick had sat in determined silence during Damian's entire argument with Batman. Damian didn't have the faintest idea why he was trying to meet up with him now.

Maybe Dick meant to apologize. Maybe he meant to say goodbye.

Damian didn't care. He immediately grabbed for the nearest sandy rock and threw it at Dick's chest.

Dick didn't block it. His eyes followed its path, watching as it struck and bounced off his chest.

"You're either a fool or you have some type of death wish, showing your face after everything _you've_ done."

Dick started to walk toward him. Damian's hand reached for another pebble, tossing it. It struck Dick's stomach. He reached for another but something heavy landed near him, disturbing the sand.

Damian stopped, looking at the bag.

He stared at it for a moment. Then, he glanced up at Dick, suspecting a trick. Dick said nothing, just calmly crossed his arms, and watched.

Despite his better judgment, Damian grabbed the bag and opened it up.

Well, it didn't have everything. There definitely wasn't a blaster, anyways.

But Damian supposed, all things considered… it was sufficient.

"I'll miss you," Dick said.

Damian suddenly remembered the truth—that as much as he caved in to Dick, Dick always caved first.

Damian's hands wrapped tightly around the fabric of the bag, his shoulders heavy.

"I don't think I'm going to go."

A chortle. Damian's head snapped up in surprise. Dick didn't even bother to hide the smug smile on his face.

"I knew it was a cry for attention."

"It was not a cry for attention, you insufferable ass," Damian said at once. Damian decided to grab for another rock. This time, Dick did block it, but only because it was aimed for his head. "It just doesn't make sense to go! You and Father pushed me off schedule. Ra's is probably already changing hideouts as we speak. Even if I leave now, there's no telling if I'll catch onto his trail again, he might even have a trap laid out there—"

"Yeah, well, guess I can't blame you for not wanting to get caught in another trap..."

Damian's face went hot. "If people die, their blood will be on your hands. And Father's."

"At least it won't be your blood," Dick said in a quiet sort of voice.

Damian opened his mouth to argue. But then closed it.

Dick put a hand on his hip. His head turned, looking out toward the bay.

"You know, Batman sounded pretty concerned over the commlink. He really thought his trap had hurt you. It was actually kind of sweet."

"You're the worst," Damian muttered darkly.

"Come on. I wasn't that mean. You've done way worse. Besides, it sounded to me that you liked it." Damian glared at the back of Dick's head. Dick ran a hand through his hair, the motion a tad bit too smug for Damian's taste. Damian's eyes travelled downwards, catching something in the sand. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the real reason you decided to stay is because you want some—"

The rock flew for Dick's head. That time, it hurt.

* * *

A/N: Given Damian's history involving Dick and rocks, we can only assume that in the aftermath of this story, Dick is actually dead. Sorry for not tagging this story with character death. u_u At least he deserved it.


	2. Right Where You Belong - Original Draft

**A/N** : The original draft of this story. I'm only posting this for people who would like to see the original and for people who would prefer to have the funnier draft.

The porn is largely the same, minus some dialogue changes.

* * *

Damian was sitting on the ground, surrounded by boxes, when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Though he had his predictions, he was still surprised when he saw the person who stood at the door.

"Hey, Damian," Dick said, leaning in the doorway. His eyes scanned over the room, his expression falling as he saw the shelves upon shelves of junk. "I'm guessing Alfred recruited you for 'spring cleaning' as well?"

"I'm almost finished up," Damian said dismissively. "You, on the other hand, have a lot of work ahead of you. How is it that you're nearing _ancient,_ but you still haven't fully moved out of the manor?"

Dick ignored the slight. He entered the storage room, letting the door shut behind him. He glanced at the marked boxes, different names and categories marked on the sides in Alfred's neat script. Dick grabbed a box with his name on it, shuffling it around.

"I already don't want to do this," Dick said with a sigh. Damian snorted to himself. The younger crimefighter had narrowed down all of his items into a single box. He didn't have much clutter to begin with—Dick, on the other hand, had the most history in the manor. The shelves were littered with his name.

"Don't be lazy," Damian said. He started breaking down his empty boxes. "Pennyworth gave you plenty of opportunities to figure out your hoarding problem."

"It's not hoarding! A lot of these things have memories attached."

Dick set the box down on a table, prying off the tape.

Damian let Dick's faulty argument slip by. He supposed it could have been worse—Drake had a startling amount of boxes in the manor, given the comparably short amount of time he had spent there. His problem _actually_ likened to hoarding.

"Hey, isn't this yours?" Dick said. Damian paused long enough to see what Dick was talking about.

His heart skipped when he saw the familiar journal in Dick's hands.

"Put that down," he demanded at once, heat rising to his face.

Dick, naturally, did the opposite. He started flipping through the pages. Damian huffed to himself, dropping what he was doing so he could pry his old sketchbook out of Dick's hands.

"Stop looking at that!" he said and despite being equal height to Dick, Dick still managed to keep away, swiftly dancing out of reach every time Damian made a swipe for the journal.

"What's the big deal?" Dick said. Damian caught a glimpse of one of his old drawings.

 _Awful_ , he thought, looking at it with humiliation.

Dick gasped when he turned a page. A familiar kitten stared back at them.

"He's so little!" Dick cooed, even though Damian's cat gave Dick the most hell out of everyone in the family. At this, Dick's face seemed thoughtful. "Hey, how old is this thing? This must be sometime right after your father came back. If I flip earlier, will I be in it?"

Dick started flipping even _earlier_ and at this point, Damian thought he was going to die of shame.

"Cute," Dick murmured, coming across a Batman sketch. "Is this supposed to be you? Aren't the spiked knuckles a little excessive?" He chuckled a little. "You envisioned your adult self a little taller, huh? Usually guys stop growing at nineteen. I think it might be too late for you."

"How difficult is it for you to follow instructions?" Damian demanded. He managed to grab onto the corner of the journal. Dick let it go. When their faces met, Dick seemed startled by Damian's glare. "See, this is why you have so much work to do—because you'd rather goof off than do as you're told."

Dick crossed his arms, a strange expression in his eyes. He seemed to be balancing between amusement and annoyance. "What's wrong with having some fun? The room will get cleaned when it gets clean."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have _plenty_ of fun here," Damian said, rolling his eyes. He tossed the journal in with his own box of stuff. He packed it up and started to carry it out the door.

"Wait, aren't you going to help me?" Dick said, cutting off his path.

"What's wrong, Grayson? Are you too incompetent to do it on your own?" Damian said with a sly smirk. Dick's expression soured.

"No need to be mean," Dick said.

"Don't you like me mean?"

Dick's face reddened slightly. Damian couldn't decide if the man was angry or flustered. Or both. Either way, it was the reaction Damian wanted.

"Now move. I'll leave you to your _fun_ spring cleaning," Damian said.

Dick's eyes narrowed. Damian stopped, not liking the look.

The acrobat snatched the journal from the top of the stack. Damian gritted his teeth in frustration. He sat the box on the nearest ledge.

Just as Dick was about to place the journal back in his box, Damian grabbed him. Dick's laughter was cut short when the sketchbook fell out of his hands. A few loose papers scattered, a few of which flew out the window.

Damian stopped and glared at Dick.

"Oops," Dick said.

" _Incompetent_ ," Damian said, as if this proved everything.

"Wait, I can get it. Let me help—"Dick said, sounding genuinely apologetic, but Damian was already ahead of him.

"Why would I want your help when you're completely incapable of doing anything right?" Damian said, annoyed. He stuck his head out the window. A few pages were caught on the corner of the building. He might be able to reach it from where he stood. Dick was quiet for a moment.

"Come on, Damian. It was an accident." He started to sound upset. Maybe even irritated. But Damian was raised to exploit a person's weakness, and so his natural response was to be unrelenting.

"Of course it was an accident. You spend more time causing accidents than creating solutions."

He leaned out the window, resting his middle on the ledge. His fingertips grazed one of the pages. If he reached a little further—

He went on, saying, "Maybe if you spent more time taking yourself seriously for once, you wouldn't have so much strife in your life."

He got one of the pages. The others were simply too far away to reach.

He started to climb back out but as he did so, he knocked into the flimsy piece of wood that kept the window propped up. He bit back his surprised yelp as the window came flying down, landing flat on his spine.

It was so unexpected that he let the paper slip out of his hand, the wind carrying it away. It was all for nothing.

 _Great_ , he thought, annoyed. But aside from some mild pain and a bruised ego, it was nothing. He started lifting himself up, expecting to window to rise with him.

He blinked. Nothing was happening.

He pulled back and again, nothing happened. The window didn't budge and his body was too big to go anywhere.

He hung his head, giving a low, frustrated noise.

He banged his fist against the brick. "Grayson. Open the damn window."

"What's wrong?" Dick said. There was enough space cracked open where Damian could hear Dick, although his voice was slightly muffled. "Just lift it up."

"What do you think I just tried doing?" Damian said, practically barking.

"Oh, you need my help? But I thought I was incapable…"

Damian's eyes rolled. Grayson, melodramatic as ever. "What, do I have to _beg_? Just open it!"

"A simple 'please' would be nice."

Damian huffed. " _Please_ open the window, you insufferable loser."

The window shook slightly, wobbling with a sound.

"Um."

" _What_?" Damian said sharply.

"It's stuck."

Damian scoffed. "It is _not_ stuck, you're just _too weak_ to lift it."

"I'm serious, Damian. I can't get it open," Dick said, a growl between his teeth as he tried to lift it once more. The window made a strained sound. Dick immediately stopped. "Not without busting the damn thing, anyways."

"Well, then do it."

"You want me to _break the window_?" Dick said incredulously. "Who's going to pay for that?"

"Is money _really_ your concern? In _this_ house?" Damian spat back.

"Okay, fine. You're right," Dick said, cutting Damian off before he could go off on a full rant. "Let me just… try lifting it from both sides first."

"Or you could just get me out _now_." Dick's stupidity was through the roof.

"Calm down," Dick said, using his reprimanding voice. Damian clenched his jaw, biting back his argument. As annoyed as he was at his current situation, he had been prodding at Dick for awhile. While he was sure that Dick wouldn't abandon him completely, he wouldn't put it past Grayson to leave him there for a few hours to teach him a lesson. "It's not like you have anywhere to be. Just… relax."

Damian let his weight rest on the sill, his legs dangling. This whole thing was humiliating. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the squeaks of the window as Grayson fruitlessly tried to lift it with a hand on each side. The awkward positioning led to Dick's chest weighing down on Damian's back as he tried to angle over him.

"Stop," Damian hissed, after Dick's elbow jerked against his spine. "It's not going to work."

"Let me try it from over there."

Damian bit back his demands, letting Dick shuffle behind him. There was a pause in his movements.

Finally, Damian huffed. " _Well_? What's the hold-up now?"

"Nothing, it's just… it's kind of a nice sight."

Damian's face burned. Despite his better judgment, he asked, " _What_ is a nice sight?"

Damian jumped in place when two strong hands suddenly grabbed his ass.

"What the hell are you doing? This is not the time for that!" Damian spat, heart racing. He tried to turn back to see Dick but couldn't twist that far—so he blindly kicked instead, making contact with the air. Of course Dick would dodge it.

"I don't think you're in a position to tell me what to do," Dick said with a low chuckle. Damian deadpanned.

"And _I_ don't think I have to explain to you—a _vigilante_ —everything that was wrong with the words that just came out of your _idiot mouth_."

Damian jerked—more out of surprise than pain—when a sharp spank landed on his ass.

"Oh, come on," Richard said, in that husky tone of voice he always used when he was _up to no good_. The tone that made Damian, despite everything, keep his mouth shut and hang on every word. "You love the attention."

Damian's mind spun, trying to find an argument. Ears hot, Damian grumbled, "Moron. It's like you're only capable of thinking with your—"

Damian felt hands around his waist, followed by the light clang of his belt buckle ringing in the air. Damian could start to feel his heart rate pick up. _Shit_ , the moron was _actually serious_ about this. Given their sexual history, Richard could have any number of things planned that related to Damian's pants being off—and none of them were innocent.

Damian's face warmed. His eyes darted around his surroundings. Granted, no one could walk by on these grounds except the Wayne family. But it still felt very public. "What if someone comes by?"

"There are curtains," Dick said simply. Damian clenched his jaw as Dick's hands brushed between his legs—with more pressure than what was necessary in Damian's opinion, though he supposed that was the intention—and undid the button there.

"That's not the point," Damian said, voice comparably soft against the harsh sound of his zipper. Dick's hand pressed against Damian's groin, purposeful this time, warm palm massaging Damian through the remaining fabric, getting him hard. Heat rushed through Damian's body at the contact. Damian's eyes fluttered shut—despite all of his protests, Dick's hand felt nice. The whole situation was unfair and obscene but the temptation was there.

Yet, when his clothes fell to his ankles, Damian regained his senses. This was just stupid and crude.

In a hope to manipulate Dick into opening the window—since intimidation _clearly_ wasn't going to work—Damian said in a lower voice, "Focus on getting me out of here first and I'll reward you later. Freeing my entire body would be worth your time."

Richard never spared a laugh—but on rare occasions, his low chuckle could make Damian shiver.

"Oh?" Dick said, seeming to consider the prospect. "Is that a promise?"

It was absolutely ridiculous trying to seduce Dick while staring at the _backyard_ —the Wayne cemetery was right over that hill, for fuck's sake—but Damian had already long accepted the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Damian could feel the shape and heat of Dick's erection pressing through the man's jeans, lined along Damian's backside. It was the small victories that mattered. Now convinced that Dick's lack of self-control had tipped things in Damian's favor, Damian felt a little more bold.

All while fantasizing about how he was going to punch Dick once he was freed, Damian said in his most seductive voice, "You'll have more than my promise."

" _Meh_ ," Dick said.

Damian's face fell.

"I think I like you better like this," Dick said, hand squeezing around Damian's now fully hard erection. Damian clenched his jaw, holding back his voice.

Now fantasizing about how he was going to _stab_ Grayson, Damian said a little more forcefully, "You'll like my mouth better."

"Your mouth?" Dick repeated, voice sounding lost in thought. His hands moved over the contours of Damian's body, pushing up his shirt. Dick leaned down to kiss the exposed skin, soft lips moving down his spine. The sensation was sensual, relaxing. Damian felt the cold air touch where Dick had kissed, feeling goosebumps rising on his arms in response. Dick murmured, "Actually, I don't really think I like your mouth at all."

At this, Damian paused, pondering over those words.

Suddenly, he guffawed.

"Wait, don't tell me you're _mad_ at me?"

Damian was cut off short when Dick dipped his head lower, warm mouth pressed against Damian's entrance. Damian flinched as the flat of Dick's tongue, warm and wet and rough, stroked over his hole. Damian's lips parted, a moan threatening to escape as Dick applied pressure. His movements growing bolder.

He heard the sound of another belt coming undone. Dick, likely touching himself. Getting himself hard too. And the idea of it embarrassed Damian greatly. Without being able to help it, he thought about how the situation must have looked—himself, trapped and exposed, with an older man rimming him. And touching himself, while doing it.

Damian felt a warmth rise to his face. It was lowly, sure. But seeing as how he was stuck, he didn't have much of a choice. Perhaps the best thing would be to just let Dick get off. The sooner he did, the sooner Damian could be free to punish his boyfriend.

But it wasn't in his nature to just lie there and take it. He was nervous. Crazy nervous. It wasn't just the location—it was the complete and utter lack of _control_.

Dick's tongue moved in upwards strokes against his hole, each movement making him more sensitive than the last. Damian bit down on his lip to restrain his moan. He didn't want to give Dick the satisfaction in knowing that his motions were getting to him but it was difficult to control himself. However obscene, Dick's mouth was warm and inviting, and he worked at a pace that made Damian want to relax and give in to the pleasure that he was receiving.

His breath hitched ever so slightly as he felt Dick's tongue begin to prod at him. Wanting to enter inside. His face burned at the crudeness of it all—he wanted to squirm away but there was nowhere to go, his body trapped underneath the pane. Dick's tongue pushed inside, beginning to stretch him open, and heat rushed to Damian's face.

He was increasingly aware of how hard he was. His cock was aching between his legs. He wanted to touch himself but his hands were trapped on the other side of the wall. His body felt hot and confined in his sweater and he couldn't do anything to relieve himself.

And Dick continued teasing him with his tongue and mouth, hands kneading the flesh of his ass but not moving anywhere else. Not stroking his cock like Damian _needed_ him to.

A small moan crawled up Damian's throat, making Dick halt.

"Say something?" Dick said, and Damian could perfectly envision his dumb smirk.

Damian's face burned. _Bastard_.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Damian said coolly. "It can't possibly be taking this long for you to get ready—you're not _that_ old."

When Dick didn't respond right away, Damian felt a little more bold. A little more in control.

"At this rate, I might just fall asleep."

Damian would fake some snores at this point if that was what it took to get Dick to hurry up. But without being able to see Dick's face, Damian couldn't gauge a reaction. Dick simply said nothing, his warm breath brushing against Damian's wet entrance, and Damian resisted reacting to it. Resisted pushing back his hips for more.

Damian felt fingertips brush lightly over his cock—but nothing more than that, just enough to tease. Damian's hand clenched into his fists, his brow furrowing. He wanted Dick's hands again. More, firmly this time. He wanted to be touched properly. Dick went back to rimming him, his tongue pushing in deeper. Damian gripped the sill, trying to find purchase on something. Anything. Dick's hands moved across his ass—Damian stifled a gasp as fingers prodded at his hole. Dick's fingertips pushed in, spreading Damian open, and Damian's face burned at the idea of Dick being able to see _everything_.

Dick's fingers stretched Damian to better receive his tongue. This time, Damian couldn't hold back his voice as Dick filled him. The warm, wet intrusion felt so good. Damian's body fell slack, a shudder running down his spine.

 _Fuck_ , it felt good.

He just needed Dick to go a little faster. A little harder.

He needed _more_.

Then Dick's hand was finally back on his cock—and the anticipation seemed to make it that much sweeter. Damn it all, Dick could be _unbearably_ indulgent in foreplay. Sometimes so agonizingly slow that Damian would forget about the pay off. Whenever Dick took his sweet time in the past, Damian at least had his hands free where he could pull Dick's head and hands and everything else to do whatever he needed them to do. If he wasn't trapped, Damian's hands would likely be buried in Dick's hair by now.

Richard was stroking him in tune with the slide of his tongue—enough to keep the pleasure constant, but not enough to drive Damian towards the edge. Quickly, Dick's hand became just as frustrating as Dick's mouth—Damian needed more. He needed him to stroke faster, harder. Needed him to plunge his tongue deep, deep enough for Damian to feel the shape of him. Feel the stretch.

His breath grew shorter with each pump on his erection, heat prickling on his skin. He wanted to arch back but he was trapped, so trapped. He licked his lips, memories of Dick's kisses coming to mind. Damian wanted his lips and teeth. Wanted to feel Dick suck on his ear and neck instead of the outdoors breeze that brushed against his skin. Wanted Dick's rough and callused hands to reach up his sweater and tease his chest, pulling and pinching at his nipples.

Damian felt Dick's breath against his skin. Damian anticipated more of his tongue—groaned when Dick's fingers unexpectedly pressed inside instead. Two fingers, scissoring inside of him. The pace of his fingers much faster, relieving Damian's antsiness. The fingers were thicker, could push deeper, were more controlled in the angle of their thrusts. The fingers pressed where it felt best, that spot that made him lose his restraint and moan openly.

The hand on his cock moved quicker now, closer to the tip. Damian could feel the heat swelling in his cock. He was going to come. Dick was stroking him and finger fucking him and he was going to come. Dick's teeth grazed against his flesh, his heated breaths matching to the tune of Damian's own—Damian had nowhere to look but at the ground and all the blades of grass blurred together until his eyes finally shuddered to a close—a moan vibrated against his lips until—until—

Dick released him all at once.

A forlorn gasp escaped his lips, at first not grasping the sudden absence of Dick's hands. His aching cock hung between his legs, pulsing. Precum leaking down the tip. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

His entire body shuddered, pleasure dancing along his spine as his body balanced on the edge of climax—without tipping over.

His brow furrowed, teeth gritting. _Fucking Grayson_. He should have known Richard would pull something like this. He should have fucking known.

But laced with his anger was desperation. He needed to come. He so badly wanted to stroke himself to completion, even if it meant jerking himself off at Dick's feet. Wanted it so bad he could _beg_ for it if his pride still didn't have a hold on him.

But he was trapped in this stupid fucking wall and the only person who could get him out was also the one tormenting him.

Damian could hear a light jangle behind him. The familiar sound of a belt buckle. His breath hitched. Was this imbecile getting _dressed_?

"You are not leaving me here," Damian said at once, and he hated how childish he sounded—making desperate demands when he was in no position of control.

Dick didn't say anything. A sharp sound cutting through the air answered for him. Damian jerked forward, the smack against his hind much harder than Dick's mild spank from earlier. The belt left a sting on his cheek and Damian's heart raced, a dull anger rising in his chest amidst the shock. He felt almost betrayed.

Dick was supposed to be helping him. Damian supposed he had been rather abrasive, but that was how he always acted. Surely he didn't deserve all of _this_.

But the idea that maybe he _did_ earn such treatment brought up a strange feeling of shame. Of guilt. Feelings that he desperately tried to stuff down.

It didn't matter if Dick teased or played hard, he decided, chest tightening with pride. Damian wasn't going to give in. He'd keep together what little fucking dignity he had.

Damian anticipated the second strike but it tore out his breath all the same. Damian could handle pain—but the strikes felt strange. His body had been driven to the point of highest pleasure—making him almost more sensitive to the strap. The burn on Damian's skin distracted him from the pleasure in his groin.

Another hit, landing in nearly the exact same spot, and Damian's eyes squeezed shut. Another and the sting finally dragged a groan out of him.

He moved his legs anxiously, trying to relieve the itch on his skin. His heart raced, not sure what he wanted. Almost _wanting_ another strike just so he could focus on something else— _anything_ but the sensation of being spanked that lingered on his skin.

There was a pause and with his eyes shut, Damian could hear his own breathing. It was heavy now. His heart fluttering with nerves as he waited for the next one. Unpredictably, the strike landed on the other cheek. Fresh and new. Flesh prickling at the sting. Another, and Damian could feel the blood rushing to the spot. Hot. He could only imagine what his ass looked like right now—probably flushed all red. The idea of it brought a strange semblance of shame to Damian, who regarded every single scar on his body as a mark of every failure in battle.

A series of strikes, quick and light, made it hard to think. Grunts escaped him and he hated how animalistic he sounded. How demeaning it all felt. A hard smack finally pulled a sound, loud and clear from him, and that seemed to satisfy Dick somewhat.

Damian, tense throughout the entire ordeal, finally relaxed. He panted, trying to catch his breath. Legs quivering. He nearly _whined_ when Dick touched the sensitive skin, the touch deceivingly gentle. Hands almost soothing as they touched his skin.

His erection had lessened somewhat. He was hard but he was far from the brink of glorious ecstasy that he once was. Dick had given him that high pleasure and then took it away.

He knew it was not over. Dick was playing nice now—but his hands weren't off Damian yet. He wasn't done playing. Every second felt agonizing—waiting for Dick to move onto the next thing. It was almost terrifying how unpredictable he was—Damian could never guess with Dick, even though the older man could read him like a book. The way Dick moved fluidly between sweet and generous to anger only amplified his darker moods, each rare time they actually appeared.

And it was even more terrifying to know that, whichever side of Dick decided to take over, Damian would be completely subject to his whims.

Minutes seemed to pass before Dick surprised him once again. Instead of going back to spanking or petting him, he moved around Damian. Damian's eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to sense where Dick was. Listening to the ever so subtle creaks in the floorboards. Feeling the other's body heat as he drew in close.

Damian was startled by the creak on the floor right before him, a breath suddenly fanning across his semi-hard erection. And Damian knew what was coming but after everything that happened, after the way Dick was acting, Damian still didn't believe it when Dick's tongue pressed against the tip of his cock.

Damian gasped. His legs moved and Dick grabbed him, holding him even further in place. Damian couldn't see Dick but he could imagine it—imagine Dick positioning himself between Damian and the wall, his lips on Damian's cock. The thought of it alone made Damian groan.

He wanted Dick to swallow him completely but he didn't. Damian squirmed as Dick's tongue teased over his cock—light, gentle strokes of his tongue. Lips kissing and gently nibbling along the sides of the shaft.

Too gentle, not enough. Damian wanted to fuck his mouth. He wriggled in place, the window lightly protesting, to no avail. Everytime he tried to guide the tip of his cock to where he thought Dick might be, it entered nothing.

Eventually, Dick suckled on the head. Lips wrapped around tight, head stilled in place. Letting his tongue wrap the member in his mouth. Damian practically whimpered, the pathetic sound reaching his ears and only furthering his shame. He needed more. He was close to _begging_ for it.

Dick kept his mouth around him for nearly an eternity. Then he slowly began to bob his head along the full length of Damian's cock. Damian let out a cry as he Dick swallowed the entirety of his erection, the tip of his cock tracked in the wet, tight heat of Dick's throat.

He was cursing under his breath, frantically, nails clawing and chipping the paint on the ledge as Dick bobbed his head. Again and again, all the way down. All the way. Dick's mouth is so hot and wet. The sounds of his sucking just barely reaches Damian's ears.

He tried to thrust his hips but each time he did, Dick would pull back to the tip. Damian's thighs were _trembling_ now, trying to hold still. Trying to control himself.

Damian gasped Dick's name when fingers stroked over his hole. He wanted it. He wanted Dick to thrust inside of him. To fill him up while he pleasured him with his mouth.

Dick granted him that. What feels like two fingers push inside. It's in so deep, stretching him so good. Dick's fingers are a little rough, the friction a little intense, but Damian liked it when there was a little bit of pain.

Damian suddenly heard something that snapped him out of his haze. There was a familiar sound—metal ringing in the air.

 _Titus_ , he realized. Jetting out from around the corner and into the field is the great dane.

And if he was outside, then that meant someone was with him.

Damian's eyes widened when he saw his father enter his line of vision. The man is distracted by Titus, watching him to make sure the dog didn't venture too far off while he played in the yard.

"Grayson," Damian whispered, to warn him. To get him to stop. But he had to do it without his father seeing him.

As if he had heard him, Bruce suddenly turned his head, catching sight of Damian.

Dick's head sunk deeply on Damian's cock. Fingers pushing in down to the knuckle. Damian tried to back away but there was nowhere to go, and Dick practically seemed to chase after him.

The worst part is that it all felt so good. Crazy good. He was already sensitive from being pushed to near-orgasm and Dick's mouth moved so skillfully, his fingers brushing up against Damian's most pleasurable areas, that he felt like he was getting close again. Close to coming.

And his heart was hammering as his father started to walk toward him but even his fear couldn't block out the pleasure.

"Grayson," he whispered harshly once more. Voice more desperate now.

He wanted to kick Richard away but his legs felt weak. Dick's fingers only seemed to dig that much deeper inside, just the right amount of pressure to make it sting without being unbearable—just the way Damian liked it.

Bruce was too close now. Realizing there was no way to convince Dick to stop, Damian propped up his arms on the large sill and rested his chin in his hands. Like he was just casually looking out the window, enjoying the breeze.

"What are you doing?" Bruce said once he was close enough. Straight to the point.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek when his cock buried particularly deep in Dick's mouth.

"Nothing," Damian managed.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. "Nothing?"

"Just…" Damian said, trailing off when suddenly, he felt another one of Dick's fingers stroking over his entrance. Wait, he wasn't going to—Damian stopped, refocusing on the conversation with his father. "I'm just enjoying the weather."

His heart started to beat faster, breath shortening, as a third finger began to prod at his entrance. Not now. Not now. Not now.

Damian's eyes squeezed shut when three fingers pushed themselves in. He clenched his jaw tight to prevent any noise. Fuck. Dick's digits were absolutely stretchint, filling Damian so good, and Dick's mouth was so hot and wet— _fuck_ , Damian wanted to come so bad, but when he reopened his eyes his father was still standing there.

"You should come outside. Join me and Titus," Bruce said.

Voice breathy and filled with desire, Damian scrambled for any excuse to not speak. He diverted the conversation, "What are your plans for today?"

Dick was sucking on his cock, his expert mouth and tongue massaging Damian at a steady pace. His fingers began to thrust in Damian, the pace less forgiving, moving in deep and hard. Damian barely listened to Bruce, simply staring at his father with a blank, dazed expression as the man droned on, trying to restrain all emotion from his face as Dick fingered him harder. Faster.

The stretch of his hole around Dick's fingers felt amazingly good. It was getting harder to control himself. His legs were spreading for _more_ , the flush on his face undeniable, his nipples erect underneath his shirt. He wanted to come. He'd been _waiting_ to come.

As if sensing Damian's need, Dick began to curl his fingers, making Damian actually gasp.

Bruce paused in the middle of his rambling.

Damian scrambled to remember the last words Bruce spoke.

"I just remembered that I never put away the training equipment," Damian lied.

"Oh. That's fine, I'm sure Alfred put it back," Bruce said. He continued, "And then around 18:00, we'll probably have dinner—"

Damian's fists began to tighten. He squirmed underneath Dick's ministrations, hips jerking between Dick's mouth and his fingers. It felt good. It felt too fucking good. Dick suddenly swallowed Damian deep, his throat tightening around the tip of Damian's cock, his entire length enveloped in wet heat. Damian's mouth parted with a silent gasp. Dick held Damian there, arm pinned around him. He was finger-fucking him deeper now. Faster. The stretch of his hole around three fingers maddening.

He was going to come. He was going to come.

Damian's face burned as he watched his father, waiting for him to leave. Trying to hold off on his orgasm until he was gone. But the man just would not shut up and Grayson wouldn't fucking relent and Damian's head was spinning.

His eyes burned with tears of frustration. Every part of his body clenched up. He couldn't come. He couldn't. If he came in front of his father, he'd be absolutely mortified.

But Dick's throat felt so good. Lips vibrating against his cock as he hummed. Damian felt so trapped and the complete loss of control was getting to his head. Dick was going to keep fingering him and there was nothing Damian could do about it. The fingers were brushing against his prostate now. Damian was trembling, absolutely trembling, the heat of his climax steadily building in his groin.

He struggled against Dick, trying to get him to stop, to wait, but both the window and Dick's free arm kept him pinned in place. His fingers seemed to thrust that much faster, now hitting his prostate over and over.

Heat rushed through Damian's body. His mouth parted, the pink of his tongue visible as he panted in front of his father. His vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.

He was going to come. But he didn't want to. Not with his father right there, looking directly at him, not even a few feet away.

Damian struggled to say something, to get his father to leave, but a strange sound just escaped his throat, and now Bruce was looking at him in confusion.

Shit. Fuck. He was looking right at him.

But damn it all, he wanted to come.

He'd been _waiting_ for it.

His sense of priorities went askew. He knew it'd be better to just resist, to hold back until his father was gone, but his body kept screaming at him, telling him that it'd be better, more satisfying, to _just let go_.

Unable to resist, he did.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his long moan. His eyes squeezing shut, entire body shuddering as he spilled his seed inside of Dick's mouth. Richard wasn't stopping, he wasn't stopping—hot mouth still wrapped around Damian's cock, fingers still buried deep in his ass and— _fuck_ , he's swallowing it. His lips massaging Damian's sensitive cock as he suckled it all down and it was crude and disgusting and—

Damian finally removed his hand and breathed, pleasure still racing around his lower half, face flushed and eyes burning. He tried to catch his breath, deep humiliation gnawing at him. Shame for not being able to hold himself back. Embarrassed that he had just climaxed in front of his father.

Damian dared to look up, swallowing his shame. Bruce just looked concerned by Damian's sudden outburst.

"Damian, are you okay? What happened? Are you feeling well—"

Bruce's hand moved to check on Damian, presumably to feel his face for a temperature—and that's when Damian regained his senses, suddenly alert.

 _Fuck no_ , there was no way he was going to let his father touch him _now_.

"I think Titus is chasing that squirrel toward the fence!" Damian said quickly. Bruce turned his head.

He was partially right. Titus was running around the yard, but who knows if he was actually heading toward the fence or just spinning in circles like he tended to do.

"I'll go check on him," Bruce said anyways. He walked off. "I'll talk to you later."

Damian finally breathed when Dick removed his mouth and hands.

"Grayson, you fucking bastard—"Damian said, his breath still short, once Bruce was out of earshot. He could hear Dick moving around, getting back up, so who knows if he was even listening. Damian clenched his fists on the sill. He couldn't fight back the blush on his face, the humiliation. He kept replaying the scene in his head over and over again, wondering how much of a fool he seemed in his father's eyes. "I'll fucking—once I'm free—"

Damian's sputtering was cut off when he felt something pushing up against his hole. Momentary disbelief filled his head—there was no way Richard was—he _just came_ —

Damian let out a short cry as Dick's cock pressed in, burying the head. Every nerve in Damian's body was electrifying, his body still sensitive from his orgasm. The cock inside of him even thicker, even _hotter_ , than the fingers that made him climax.

"Stop," he gasped, body trembling. Legs weak and spread on either side of Richard, his toes curling and uncurling. Dick didn't stop. He shoved himself deeper and deeper, cock slowly sliding in.

Damian groaned as he felt Dick's hips meet his, his cock pushed impossibly deep. Even after Dick's fingers, Damian still felt so _full_.

"I can't believe you," Damian said, his nerves on fire, those frustrated tears now spilling. "I can't fucking believe you."

"What's wrong, Damian?" Dick said. And Damian ceased all at once, listening to Dick speak for the first time in awhile. He felt Dick's hands digging into his hips. Voice husky, words dark, Dick said, "Don't you like me _mean_?"

Damian blinked with shock, his own words finally coming back to bite him. Dick pulled back all the way before thrusting back in, his cock seeming to hit every nerve in Damian's body. Damian cried out all at once, nails digging into the ledge.

Dick held nothing back, gripping Damian hard, hard enough to bruise, as he pounded into him. The full length of his cock driving forward, pace brisk. Damian couldn't hold back his voice, could barely think.

"You certainly liked me sucking you off and fingering your ass," Dick said, voice mocking. "How'd it feel, coming like a proper slut in front of your own father?"

Dick talked a lot, but he never talked like _this_. His words seemed to drill into Damian's brain—as if _because_ Dick was the one to say those words, there _had_ to be some truth to it. Damian's face burned in embarrassment.

"If you like being watched so much, I could tie you up in the busiest part of Gotham," Dick suggested darkly, his hard thrusts almost punishing. "Then everyone could see you for who you truly are."

"Shut up," Damian breathed. He bristled with every word, decided he couldn't listen any longer. Dick's words were driving him crazy. He dug his nails into the sill. "Shut _up_."

But his words sounded pathetic, his voice so drowned in desire that it was pitiful. He wasn't a threat. He was pinned and Dick had taken control, subjecting him to all of his perversions. Controlling his orgasms and making him a desperate fool in front of his own father.

"You're awful mean to a lot of people, Robin. I'm sure Gotham would love to see you get knocked down a peg." Damian couldn't resist moaning at Dick's use of his moniker. Dick picked up on it, used it against him. A sharp hand landed on Damian's ass. "Is that what you want, Damian? To show everyone that you're nothing but a needy, cock-loving whore?"

Dick's hand reached around, grabbing Damian's erection. Damian hated how pitiful his voice sounded as he moaned. How desperate and weak and pathetic.

"You're hard just thinking about it, aren't you?" Dick said. Damian wanted to protest but the words escaped him. All he could focus on was Dick stroking him and riding his ass. "You're so proud and mighty until you're stuffed full, aren't you?"

It was degrading, but Damian believed it. His legs were spread, cock aching hard for release. He came once and wanted to come again. He felt like some type of wanton creature, pride shattered and subject to Dick's ministrations. Dick's hand glided over his leaking cock and Damian just took it, his body bent over and eager for every thrust against his prostate. Wanting to be filled up. Every movement of hot friction building him up, driving away his pride.

How could he argue when every sound out of him was a moan, begging for more?

Between Damian's unrestrained sounds of pleasure, he could catch hints of Dick's voice as well. Groans that sent shivers up Damian's spine. He could sense the erratic rhythm of Dick's pace, the bodies snapping together as Dick chased after his own pleasure. Damian knew him well enough to know he was going to come—and even though he had been _waiting_ for Dick to finish, now he was suddenly worried.

His cock pulsed in Dick's hand—and then Dick took his hand back, grabbing Damian's hips to better angle his thrusts. Damian's breath hitched—there was no way Dick could leave him like this. Still riding off his sensitivity from earlier, Dick's fucking had made him hard. He would need to come again. He would need Dick to keep fucking him, to push him over the edge. He needed his cock inside him, needed that pleasure.

"Slow down," he managed to breathe. _Not yet_ , he wanted to say.

But Dick wasn't listening. He didn't care, far too close to the edge to listen to reason.

Or maybe, Damian began to suspect, _he wanted to_. Wanted to come and leave Damian unfulfilled. To punish him.

The thought panicked Damian.

His heartbeat raced, Dick sliding in and out of him faster now. Almost urgently. Damian tried to convince himself that there was no way Richard was going to just leave him hanging. Dick always focused on Damian's needs, often before his own. But the way he grabbed onto Damian's hips, pulling him onto his shaft like a sleeve to fuck, felt uncharacteristically _selfish_. Dick let out a heated, familiar sound.

Face burning, Damian knew he had to concede. He resorted to at least saying, "Don't come inside." If Dick was going to leave him here, if he was going to punish him, Damian wouldn't be able to stand that last bit of shame. "Don't, please, _fuck_ —"

With almost a vengeance, Dick buried himself as deep as he could go, hips pushing up against Damian's body. Damian gasped as Dick finished inside him, his thick, hot seed filling him, coating the sensitive, fucked raw walls. The sensation made Damian's eyes roll up, tremors going through his body as Dick unloaded in him. But while Dick sighed contentedly, Damian was left soiled and his cock aching.

The humiliation ran so deep that any biting words Damian might have had were silenced. He clenched his jaw shut when Dick pulled out, his essence beginning to drip from Damian's hole to his crease. Damian flinched when the tips of Dick's fingers pressed against his sac, catching the drop.

Damian tensed when Dick's fingers wiped alongside his crease, letting out a long, deep moan when those digits plunged inside of him. The fingers easily slipped into Damian's open hole, the sound of the fingers alongside Dick's ejaculate making a filthy sound. Damian's shame burned even brighter on his cheeks. The sound was perverse and disgusting. This couldn't have been his body making these sounds. It couldn't have been.

"Do you want to come?" Dick asked.

His fingers worked inside Damian, moving at a leisurely pace in comparison to the brutal fucking Damian just received. Damian whimpered pathetically as Dick expertly found his prostate, the pads of his fingers stroking over the spot repeatedly. Damian's chest heaved as Dick continually massaged over the spot, sexual frustration damn near bringing him to sobs. He struggled, body rocking against the sill, not sure whether he wanted Dick to keep pressing against the spot or if he wanted to get away—but his body was completely trapped in the wall and he had no choice but to take Dick's fingers.

When Dick's other hand wrapped around Damian's cock, Damian finally begged, " _Yes_. Please. Fuck, _please_."

The sounds of Dick's fingering filled Damian's ears. Dick's hands worked over him, each stroke building Damian higher. Heat pooling into his groin until finally, it all released. He cried out, his hips jerking as he came.

His orgasm was even more intense the first. Damian's whole body clenched up, tremors running through him as he spilled into Dick's hand. Dick stroked him through it, letting his hand fill up. Damian wouldn't be surprised if the entire manor heard his voice—the sound long and almost pained. He finally managed to bite his lip near the end, at the last moments of his orgasm. His body fell slack, his weight resting on the window ledge as he tried to catch his breath.

Dick at least had the kindness to make themselves decent again, cleaning up and redressing them. Dick even reattached Damian's belt.

Now that his orgasm had subsided, Damian went back to being annoyed—although his irritance was now slightly dampened by exhaustion.

"Are you happy now? Are you _finally_ going to get me out of this damned thing—"Damian started to rant, when suddenly the window popped open.

Damian stopped, freezing in place. Stunned at the sudden relief of weight, to the point of disbelief, Damian almost didn't respond. Tentatively, he withdrew himself, feeling a crick in his spine as he straightened himself.

He just now noticed the lock on the top of the window.

He turned his head toward Dick, who was leaning against the wall, one hand propping the window up. A wry expression on his face.

"Look at that," Dick said flatly. He moved his hand, letting the window slide shut on its own. "I suddenly found my competence."

Damian's face went red.

The birds outside flew off, Alfred nearly spilled his tea, Bruce's pen slipped against the paper, Titus awoke from his nap, Batcow mooed unhappily in response, the cat ducked underneath the bed—all when a single voice disturbed the entire manor, screaming:

" _I'm going to fucking kill you_!"


End file.
